Dated May/June 2025.
1. A Darshan
As we meditated and learned some key concepts of Mahayana Buddhism, the air within the monastery was mildly perfumed with the delicate scent of Tibetan essence. Outside, the bees hummed among the native flowers, intoxicated by their fragrance. On the nearby trees, the monkeys leaped and swung, and the outside air was filled with the chirp of small birds and insects.
Deceived by material prosperity and addicted to comforts (I am not against either of these, but against the ever-increasing production of goods or the culture of consumerism to gratify men's insatiable desires; or to hide the unpleasant facts of life), the majority of "modernistic" men have deprived themselves of the opportunity and privileges of leading a truly satisfying life of spiritual freedom as their ancestors once did. As I took a Tibetan Buddhist retreat on the Himalayan heights, I could readily experience that it was immensely easier for the materially “backward” Tibetans to realize spiritual truths and to lead devotional lives than for their more “advanced” contemporaries.
Why is this evidently true? I believe, they were attuned to the intuitive qualities of mind and lived simpler lives. Being closer to the unrelenting harsh terrain, in the wilderness of the gigantic mountains and lonely highlands of Tibet, they were secluded from modern distractions. They were unmasked by disguises, and they had more opportunity to concentrate, meditate and contemplate with unburdened minds. In closer contact with yogis and sages, they could draw inspiration and blessings from them, reaping the rewards of a spiritual life. However, the majority of us in the modern times are deprived of these privileges, for we are living in a civilization deeply entrenched in materialism that could be defined as "one vast conspiracy against the spiritual life”. And so the wheel of Karma keeps on rolling, and one is stuck on it regardless of his dissatisfaction and reluctance.
Men who may spark a spiritual inspiration for those living in this age of spiritual undernourishment are therefore very precious. They are what we long for, and what so rarely appears in our age. What greater opportunity could fate offer me than meeting such a man during this retreat.
On the fifth day, I woke up early with a sense of inner joy and expectancy. As I sat meditating, I heard a peculiar sound produced by the strong vibrating movement of the long, narrow prayer flags in the constant early morning breeze that was blowing up from the Kangra valley, some six thousand and nine hundred feet below. Today was the dawn of the great day. Around 6:30 a.m., we quietly set off on a local pilgrimage, walking down the chilly mountain road to attend a Puja (ritual) held for the long life of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It took us roughly thirty minutes to reach Dalai Lama's main temple. We spread our yoga mats and occupied seats amid local Tibetan people waiting for his 'darshan' (the term denotes meeting a spiritually advanced person in silence, merely partaking of the person's presence, without the necessity of holding a conversation).
Stepping out of the elevator, he arrived. Those merciful eyes watched over the gathered beings in great compassion. He blessed all beings gazing into their eyes as they drank from the fountain of his nectar of kindness and compassion. Respect and reverence arose in their hearts. As he passed by, I felt his presence. It was a great joy to find before my very eyes the living embodiment of the ideal of compassion (the second ray energy of love and wisdom of the Tibetan Master Djwal Khul): a being who shifted all those who came in touch with him not by his learning but by his mere presence. He looked upon all beings like a mother looking upon her children with tender love. He was living proof of the direct transmission of experience and the spiritual impetus that facing an advanced spiritual being could give us if we open ourselves to him in all sincerity.
Back in Tushita, during the afternoon session, some friends from Israel asked if he was an embodiment of Buddha. How do we know if he is truly enlightened? Our lama teacher shared with us that once Dalai Lama had told them privately that he remembers being a Brahmin when Sakyamuni Buddha was in embodiment teaching publicly.
2. Mandalas and Thang-Kas
A mandala is a map of the inner world, which is explored and realized through meditation. Just like a mathematical formula where each symbol and its position determines its value, similarly mandalas also have a precise meaning. They are not just aesthetic paintings but the outcome of centuries of meditative experience of yogis and siddhas. It is for this purpose that elaborate mandalas are built up, in which the spiritual universe is minutely depicted in detail with hundreds of figures, indicating inner spiritual rebirths, deaths and transformation, pointing to the realization that this universe is just a thought in the mind of God.
In this introductory course, our teacher discussed the mandala of Samantha practice, and we had few meditation sessions on it. Another Mandala that we daily encountered was that of 'The wheel of life' that was exhibited permanently outside the dining hall.
And as I wrote earlier, the walls of the main monastery were covered with frescoes and Tibetan scroll-paintings (thang-kas) of brilliant, pure color and beauty. Like Auroville, these made me realize the tremendous influence of color upon the transformation of human consciousness. In the language of science (fifth ray) and philosophy (third ray), we attempt to model reality into colorless symbols for the most intelligible abstractions of our own intellect. But by doing so, we rob them of their essential nature. Indeed, the outer world in the form of sense-impressions or the inner world in the form of archetypal symbols of direct inner experience is always colored. I believe it is for this reason that Tibetan meditation and Tantra give such great importance to colors.
The last two days of the retreat were fully reserved for silent meditations with no teaching sessions. On the last day for twenty-four hours, most of us took eight Mahayana precepts (as these were optional).
On the last evening of the retreat, the stupa on the grounds of the monastery under the trees was illuminated with the oil lamps that each of us offered as we circumambulated (around) the stupa, softly chanting the mantra 'OM MANI PADME HUM' in perfect unison. Clouds drifted across the sky, alternately hiding and revealing the Vaishak (Wesak) full moon, throwing its impermanent spotlights upon the grounds of the monastery.
The retreat finally ended on the tenth day with a group photo and a picnic lunch as I gorged myself on a freshly baked pizza.
I ventured into a Lam-Rim retreat not out of the thirst for adventures, not from a kind of freedom in being able to do what
I want, but in the hope of raising my ability to accept the unexpected with an open mind. Neither being bound by space nor by time, I sought to experience the fullness of both (Sunyata or the plenum-void) without clinging to either of their aspects. Indeed, it is said that the profound sermon Sakyamuni Buddha ever preached (without uttering a single word) when asked to reveal the essence of his teaching was his last gesture in holding up a flower.
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